The second song is also a Henry Lawson poem, The Water Lily and is best known to the tune set by Priscilla Herdman and on her LP (probably now a CD) of that name.

I can dig out the words ... but I think they should be in the Digital Tradion database attached to Mudcat.

Hmmm... I just looked at the DT ... and could not find them. I certainly have them - and tunes - in Chris Kempster's book Songs from Lawson. I will post them, next time round, if someone does not come up with them in the meantime!

A lonely young wife in her dreaming discerns, a lily-decked pool with a border of ferns. And a beautiful child, with butterfly wings, trips down to the edge of the water and sings: Chorus: "Come mamma! Come! Quick! Follow me - step out on the leaves of the water-lily!"

And the lonely young wife, her heart beating wild, cries, "Wait till I come, till I reach you, my child!" But the beautiful child with the butterfly wings, steps out on the leaves of the lily and sings: Chorus: "Come mamma! Come! Quick! Follow me - step out on the leaves of the water-lily!"

And the wife in her dreaming steps out on the stream, but the lily leaves sink and she wakes from her dream. Ah, the waking is sad, for the tears that it brings, and she knows 'tis her dead baby's spirit that sings: Chorus: "Come mamma! Come! Quick! Follow me - step out on the leaves of the water-lily!"

I have also got the full poetry version of the words to Faces in the Street. There are many music settings … do you know whose version you have heard?

The Faces in the Street Words: Henry Lawson, 1888 They lie, the men who tell us in a loud decisive tone That want is here a stranger, and that misery's unknown; For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet My window-sill is level with the faces in the street – Drifting past, drifting past, To the beat of weary feet – While I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.

And cause I have to sorrow, in a land so young and fair, To see upon those faces stamped the marks of Want and Care; I look in vain for traces of the fresh and fair and sweet In sallow, sunken faces that are drifting through the street – Drifting on, drifting on, To the scrape of restless feet; I can sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.

In hours before the dawning dims the starlight in the sky The wan and weary faces first begin to trickle by, Increasing as the moments hurry on with morning feet, Till like a pallid river flow the faces in the street – Flowing in, flowing in, To the beat of hurried feet – Ah! I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.

The human river dwindles when 'tis past the hour of eight, Its waves go flowing faster in the fear of being late; But slowly drag the moments, whilst beneath the dust and heat The city grinds the owners of the faces in the street – Grinding body, grinding soul, Yielding scarce enough to eat – Oh! I sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.

And then the only faces till the sun is sinking down Are those of outside toilers and the idlers of the town, Save here and there a face that seems a stranger in the street, Tells of the city's unemployed upon his weary beat – Drifting round, drifting round, To the tread of listless feet – Ah! My heart aches for the owner of that sad face in the street.

And when the hours on lagging feet have slowly dragged away, And sickly yellow gaslights rise to mock the going day, Then flowing past my window like a tide in its retreat, Again I see the pallid stream of faces in the street – Ebbing out, ebbing out, To the drag of tired feet, While my heart is aching dumbly for the faces in the street.

And now all blurred and smirched with vice the day's sad pages end, For while the short `large hours' toward the longer `small hours' trend, With smiles that mock the wearer, and with words that half entreat, Delilah pleads for custom at the corner of the street – Sinking down, sinking down, Battered wreck by tempests beat – A dreadful, thankless trade is hers, that Woman of the Street.

But, ah! to dreader things than these our fair young city comes, For in its heart are growing thick the filthy dens and slums, Where human forms shall rot away in sties for swine unmeet, And ghostly faces shall be seen unfit for any street – Rotting out, rotting out, For the lack of air and meat – In dens of vice and horror that are hidden from the street.

I wonder would the apathy of wealthy men endure Were all their windows level with the faces of the Poor? Ah! Mammon's slaves, your knees shall knock, your hearts in terror beat, When God demands a reason for the sorrows of the street, The wrong things and the bad things And the sad things that we meet In the filthy lane and alley, and the cruel, heartless street.

I left the dreadful corner where the steps are never still, And sought another window overlooking gorge and hill; But when the night came dreary with the driving rain and sleet, They haunted me -- the shadows of those faces in the street, Flitting by, flitting by, Flitting by with noiseless feet, And with cheeks but little paler than the real ones in the street.

Once I cried: `Oh, God Almighty! if Thy might doth still endure, Now show me in a vision for the wrongs of Earth a cure.' And, lo! with shops all shuttered I beheld a city's street, And in the warning distance heard the tramp of many feet, Coming near, coming near, To a drum's dull distant beat, And soon I saw the army that was marching down the street.

Then, like a swollen river that has broken bank and wall, The human flood came pouring with the red flags over all, And kindled eyes all blazing bright with revolution's heat, And flashing swords reflecting rigid faces in the street. Pouring on, pouring on, To a drum's loud threatening beat, And the war-hymns and the cheering of the people in the street.

And so it must be while the world goes rolling round its course, The warning pen shall write in vain, the warning voice grow hoarse, But not until a city feels Red Revolution's feet Shall its sad people miss awhile the terrors of the street – The dreadful everlasting strife For scarcely clothes and meat In that pent track of living death -- the city's cruel street.

A lonely young wife in her dreaming discerns, a lily-decked pool with a border of ferns. And a beautiful child, with butterfly wings, trips down to the edge of the water and sings:Chorus: "Come mamma! Come! Quick! Follow me - step out on the leaves of the water-lily!"

And the lonely young wife, her heart beating wild, cries, "Wait till I come, till I reach you, my child!" But the beautiful child with the butterfly wings, steps out on the leaves of the lily and sings:Chorus: "Come mamma! Come! Quick! Follow me - step out on the leaves of the water-lily!"

And the wife in her dreaming steps out on the stream, but the lily leaves sink and she wakes from her dream. Ah, the waking is sad, for the tears that it brings, and she knows 'tis her dead baby's spirit that sings:Chorus: "Come mamma! Come! Quick! Follow me - step out on the leaves of the water-lily!"

does anybody know of this song -put out in mid 1970s Cockie Bell -its the tragic story of a cockie in West Australia who was using his tractor to pull over trees when it tipped and pinned him to the ground -he eventually dies fantastic ballad but cant remember all the words and does anybody have the chords or know where I could purchase the song here it is ..........

COCKIE BELL

Cockie Bell you were a tough man one of our pioneers You were a wheat belt cocky for only 40 years You were A cockie thru and thru But it was the death of you Cockie Bell

You ploughed the land and you fenced it in The seasons treat you well Cockie Bell you were a tough man one of our pioneers You were a wheat belt cocky for only 40 years You were A cockie thru and thru But it was the death of you Cockie Bell

Tractor pins him to the ground ……..

Cockie Bell you were a tough man one of our pioneers You were a wheat belt cocky for only 40 years You were A cockie thru and thru But it was the death of you Cockie Bell

For 3 long days and weary nights you lay out on the ground But you faithful team of horses never moved on made a sound And when they finally found you –you couldn't even care For the blasted ants had eaten you theyd eaten out your eyes

Cockie Bell you were a tough man one of our pioneers You were a wheat belt cocky for only 40 years You were A cockie thru and thru But it was the death of you Cockie Bell, Cockie Bell

I can't recall ever hearing this one ... certainly not over hear on the East Coast of Australia.

Who sang / (recorded .. ?) the song? I know there have been a number of really good, distinctive, locally-ficused groups over in West Australia and I would presume this comes from on of those. If you have a bit more ID on the singers it might turn up something ... and I have a few friends who might be better on that side of our island continent!

Martin Wyndham-Read sang a lovely version of "The Water Lily" on a now sadly out-of-print CD, "Undiscovered Australia". There's a snatch of it (and other songs) down this link, I think the tune he uses is his own, but I might be wrong there.

Incidentally re "a song about a girl stepping onto a lily pad" - there's nothing to indicate whether the child is a girl or a boy.

Martyn sings Priscilla Herdman's haunting tune, as I posted above some 5 years back. It's in the "No longer supported by Mudcat" MIDItext program of Alan in Australia ... but it does incorporate an ABC segment that you can feed into an ABC reader and turn into real music stave.

The CD notes say: The tune was provided by Priscilla Herdman who gave Martyn the song.

BTW: I suspect that, in the original "a song about a girl stepping onto a lily pad" reference the "girl" in question was the mother ... the song being about (possible) suicide by a distraught, bereaved parent.

I had Martyn's CD in my left hand (... using only half of my 2-and-2-half-fingers typing...) and "The tune was provided by Priscilla Herdman who gave Martyn the song" should have been in 'quotes'.

There are sites (I seem to remember one is attached to www.concertina.net ... ?) where you can drop the ABC notation and get an automatic translation into real music ... and maybe a MIDI for the ear-players!

Anyway, the tune is definitely Priscilla's, which I have known for 30+ years from the singing of the late Chris Kempster (himself a prodigious setter of good tunes to Henry Lawson's poetry ... since about 1946!). Chris produced a magnificent collection of settings by himself, other Australians (including one tune composed by me) and other singers around the world, of "The Songs of Henry Lawson", Viking O'Neil/Penguin Books Australia, 1989. This is, sadly, out of print ... but the proceeds of the 2-CD memorial Chris Kempster collection, launched at this year's (Australian) National Folk Festival are seeding a project to bring out a new edition.

The brooding ghosts of Australian night have gone from the bush and town; My spirit revives in the morning breeze, though it died when the sun went down; The river is high and the stream is strong, and the grass is green and tall, And I fain would think that this world of ours is a good world after all.

The light of passion in dreamy eyes, and a page of truth well read, The glorious thrill in a heart grown cold of the spirit I thought was dead, A song that goes to a comrade's heart, and a tear of pride let fall -- And my soul is strong! and the world to me is a grand world after all!

Let our enemies go by their old dull tracks, and theirs be the fault or shame (The man is bitter against the world who has only himself to blame); Let the darkest side of the past be dark, and only the good recall; For I must believe that the world, my dear, is a kind world after all.

It well may be that I saw too plain, and it may be I was blind; But I'll keep my face to the dawning light, though the devil may stand behind! Though the devil may stand behind my back, I'll not see his shadow fall, But read the signs in the morning stars of a good world after all.

Rest, for your eyes are weary, girl -- you have driven the worst away -- The ghost of the man that I might have been is gone from my heart to-day; We'll live for life and the best it brings till our twilight shadows fall; My heart grows brave, and the world, my girl, is a good world after all.

I haven't heard this one ... and it must be a later setting by Priscilla than the date of Chris Kempster's book, as he loved Priscilla's tunes and included a lot of them.

Colin Roderick, in his 3-volume complete Henry Lawson, Collected Verse says this was: "Addressed to his future wife, Bertha Marie Louise Bredt, and apparently composed during or shortly after the voyage back from a flyinf trip to New Zealand in March 1896.

He ends the entry, quoting Bertha: "... I received his poem "After All", and a letter asking me to come to town to meet him, which I did ... His poem won my heart." (from: Bertha Lawson, My Henry Lawson, Sydney, 1943.

Hello Bob, thank you very much for the information. I especially like this poem for the optimism expressed. Not a thick headed optimism like we see in some sections of todays society...and even Mudcat. But optimism held despite awareness of the evils inherant in humanity I think the poem illustrates the spiritual side of our species... "Song that goes to a comrades heart"..."tear of pride let fall" "light of passion in dreamy eyes" "page of truth well read" The re-awakening of spirit in a cold heart.

If we are to survive on this planet, these virtues are what will be required...not guns and bombs.....or governments...Ake

I heard the late Ken Ferguson sing his own arrangement of "Faces in the Street" a few years back. I had the words from Henry Lawson's Collected Poems, but haven't been able to trace Ken's tune. You mentioned other settings, Bob, any further details?

The positive sentiments of "After All" are in marked contrast to the bleakness and anger of "Faces in the Street" which seem more to reflect Lawson's life experience and his own struggle to make a living. There's a link to Garnet Rogers' version of "After All" here, from his "Speaking Softly In The Dark" album, but Real Audio isn't finding it for me at the moment. Any other recorded versions?

McGrath, Martyn Wyndham-Read's CD "Undiscovered Australia" may be out of print but it's just a compilation of three Fellside Albums. Water Lily is originally from "Emu Plains", and this CD is still available from Fellside (FECD27).